Call in the Tigers
by ParamoreXO
Summary: All this time he's been crossing off days on the calendar pages, but honestly, who's counting? Certainly not Robin.


**Summary: **All this time he's been crossing off days on the calendar pages, but honestly, who's counting?

**Character Dynamics: **Kid Flash, Artemis, Robin, Paula Crock

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><p><strong>By definition, memories are exhausted recollections.<strong> Memories are the Gotham Academy uniforms in the closet, the faded and peeling poster with the Cheshire grin, the faint scent of cologne still lingering in the bed sheets, the snapped arrows discarded from the quiver, the lacey invitations to weddings of people who are no longer kindred, the stack of funeral notices on the nightstand of the people no longer remembered. Memories are what the mind refuses to revive, transparent recollections which commands cannot grasp. They're the figments of consciousness no longer desired to be remembered.

The creak of the uplifted window pane had once been the laughter of teammates. A summer breeze that rattled the rickety fire escape was like her hot, breathy words in his faintly freckled ears. The shifting gears of a wheelchair in the next room now whimpered in despair. Beneath his quick feet, the floorboards swelled with his rooted weight. Sirens blared from a nearby avenue, lacerating the dark cloak of night that had once blanketed his body when ensnared with hers on nights when they had been free, lost, and daring.

As hard as he tried to forget, the atmosphere was too thick to be ignored, too vital for him to be ignorant of. He couldn't deny it anymore.

"Artemis is gone, KF." Descending from his buoyant perch on the cracked window ceil, Robin swiftly scrutinized the bedroom. "She hasn't come back for two weeks."

"Thirteen days," he corrected. The emerald pigment of his eyes blazed, kindled by the flaw in his friend's miserable consolation and ignited by the vicious desire to go about the situation with a logical approach. A mere integer, give or take, could screw with his entire formula.

The Boy Wonder's jaw slackened as he attempted to verbalize a retort. Choked up with words, he grated his teeth instead, gloved fingers cowering into his palms. A heavy thud of loaded luggage, leather booming against polished wood, snapped each boy's line of vision towards the doorway of the bedroom. There, Aqualad embodied the confident stance of the leader he had been bred to be. A single, average sized suitcase stood juxtaposed to him. "Mrs. Crock has finished packing. Your part of the plan awaits downstairs, Kid."

Nodding in recognition, Wally reached up for his goggles and strapped them on over his brooding stare. His mission was simple and terribly easy: Get Paula out of the apartment and to the safe house. Fast.

As he pushed past the Team leader, however, and querulously began to make his way towards the main entrance of the shady apartment complex, the weight of what he was doing suddenly crushed him full force. It was like trying to decipher his cyclone of feelings all over again. He needed a distraction.

Wanting nothing but to get this over with, he opted for super speed. Paula Crock, accustomed to these spontaneous appearances of his, merely blinked in response to his sudden arrival.

"All set, Mrs. C?"

Offering a small smile, she allowed him to lift her from the safe haven that was her wheelchair. It was odd being cushioned by muscle for a change. Desperately reaching around the speedster to uphold herself, she gave the ground an uncertain gaze. "Please, Wally. You know that you can call me Paula."

Looking down at this broken middle-aged woman securely in his arms, her sharp eyes crippled his heart worse than her wheelchair-bound condition had fared. The shape, the precise way her fringe of lashes framed the dark irises, hardened beyond caring, was identical to Artemis's eyes. The archer's may have been less wrinkled or baggy around the rims, but it was as if he was staring into her face again. As if she was back in his arms. As if she was _his_ all over again.

After countless years of deciphering body language for the Shadows and of seeing this destroyed expression on so many unfortunate faces, Paula understood. The willowy hand that already gripped his padded shoulder squeezed him in reassurance. Her eyes crinkled in a melancholy gesture, "The faster you get me to the Justice League's safe house, the faster you'll be able to bring her home."

Right. Nodding slightly, Wally twisted the front panel open after receiving the telepathic _All clear _from his teammates who were surveying the perimeter. Tightening his grip around the immobilized woman, he set his sights forward and, without so much as a final glance behind, tore down the street in a flash.

He had a Tigress to cage.

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><p><strong>AN: Because it's what the cool kids are doing. I've read a few stories where Artemis goes over to the Shadow's and becomes her comic incarnation of **_**Tigress**_**. I thought I'd give it a try and entertain the idea.**

**So I've sort of been on a writer's block lately. I honestly don't know what to think of this one-shot ( well, I'm not entirely sure about that. I might make this a three-shot or something? ), so it'd be beyond awesome if you all could leave some honest feedback. Like it? Love it? Hate it? Flame it? Let me know in a review. (: Thanks for reading!**


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